The Death of Me by Yolanda Olson

identification before I was able to get through security. I knew I would have to pay extra at the gate for my bags, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get the fuck out of California and go home.
    The lounge area was damn near packed by the time I got there, and I ended up sitting next to a man that seemed engrossed with his cell phone. I dropped my bags in front of the chair and fell into the seat, a relieved sigh escaping me, before I glanced over at his phone.
    My curiosity was soon satisfied when I saw that he had been texting someone named Jim and the last text message received from him made me roll my eyes. Apparently, the man next to me was being told about a strip bar where all of the strippers had “huge tits” and would most likely let them do lines of cocaine off of them once he got to Miami.
    This is gonna be a long flight, I thought with another deep sigh as I closed my eyes and waited for the flight attendant to start calling rows.

Nineteen
(Wednesday)
    I t had just been my luck to have the seat next to the man with the huge plans once he got to his destination and I forced myself to sleep for the entire flight. Once I landed in Orlando International Airport though, I felt a sense of relief wash over me like a typhoon. I was happy to be back in a place where there was no heartbreak and no one would be able to give me anymore shitty news. I was back in a place where things made sense and no matter how bad things seemed, a bowl of ice cream, and a chick flick session would fix it all.
    I went outside and waited in the valet line after retrieving my luggage from the baggage area. Ten minutes after handing my ticket to the same young man that I had tipped to keep my baby safe, he pulled around in my car. I threw my bags into the backseat and gave the car the once over, before handing him an extra one hundred dollar bill for a job well done.
    Two hours later I was pulling into my driveway. I was finally home and I had zero plans on ever leaving again. I didn’t care who died at this point; I had made it to the most important funeral I would ever have to go to and that was enough for me.
    After fidgeting with the locks on the front of my door, I stepped in and looked around happily. I let the bags drop on the side of the couch, before I closed the door behind me and locked it firmly into place. I hadn't made it very far into the actual house, when there was a knock on the door. With an eye roll and a groan, I turned around and went back to the door and pulled it open.
    "Yes?" I asked, the man who was holding a flower arrangement.
    "Ms. Lansing?" I nodded. "These are for you. I just need you to sign here please," he said, placing the arrangement down and holding out a clipboard. I signed where he indicated and then took the arrangement from him.
    "Have a good day, Miss!" he called out as he walked back down toward his waiting van.
    I took the flowers straight into the kitchen and sat them down on the island. Not very many people knew where I lived now and I was curious as to who would have sent them. Grabbing the card that had been attached, I flipped open the little envelope and smiled. I went back into the living room and fetched my cell phone, dropping down onto the couch and stretching my legs out, as I dialed. Three rings later and I was greeted by a familiar voice.
    "Hey, Darlin'," he said happily.
    "You've been living in Oklahoma for way too long," I replied with a laugh.
    My cousin returned my laugh good-naturedly, "What's up, Zee?"
    "I just got your flowers and I wanted to say thank you," I said.
    "No problem. I told them to keep going back with them until you opened that damn door. It sucks about Frances; did you end up going back home?" he asked. I heard a dog barking in the background followed by a quiet shushing.
    "Yeah; you didn't miss anything. Mom was a mess, Dad was trying to win the Father of the Year award, and Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose were part of the great family conspiracy," I replied